Times Change, and People do too
by Clementine1950
Summary: Robin can no longer deal with a terrible deed he has commited, and so he leaves the Titans. One lonely night a familiar stranger turns up, someone who might be able to heal the wounds of the past. 1-8-09 I'm working on chapter 6 as we speak!
1. Disturbing Memories Lead To A Decision

Chapter 1

_It was a cold, blustery day. There was rain on the air, he could smell it. Yet he sat there, at the top of Titan's Tower, replaying what he could remember of last week's events in his mind. He couldn't't remember everything, it came back in flashes. Two horrible flashes. He had awakened in a room, strapped to a table, with a needle in his arm. He didn't know where he was, or why he was there. He lay there, watching helplessly as the needle injected a clear liquid into his arm. He struggled, trying to free himself from his bonds, or to at least dislodge the needle from his arm, but his struggling was futile. He could barely move his head, much less the rest of his body. He heard a deep rumbling laugh in the corner as he continued to struggle, holding on to some insane hope that he could get free. _

_A voice, filled with some type of sick amusement said, "Come now, my son. You can not escape, so why even try?" _

_Slade walked into view. He walked up to Robin, extended his arm and began stroking his hair. Robin recoiled at the touch, disgusted by this monsters hand touching him. Slade's face filled with anger, as he raised a hand up to strike Robin- and then he could remember no more. The next thing he remembered was a girl, struggling beneath him, as he held her down with one hand, a knife at her throat. He remembered feeling extreme hate and anger, and it was all directed at this girl. Inside, one part of him was yelling, screaming, filled with rage. _

_Another part of his brain was screaming 'Don't do it! Don't give in. It's all a lie!' _

_But the rage was overpowering him. He was hot from it, flushing from it, gasping for breath from it. _

_"Do it my son.' A voice yelled in the background, filling his brain. _

_'Do it. Kill her before she kills you, just like she killed your family!" _

_He gave out an angry yell, and raised the knife for a quick slash. The girl trembled visibly, and yet her eyes held no fear. Instead, her eyes held great sadness, like she had already accepted her fate. Although she wasn't going to die before she had had her say. She brought her head up, as much as he would allow, until the knife was pressed tight against her throat. _

_She whispered into his ear, "Do it Robin. Spare me the pain this life has brought me. End it for me. End it all. But let me speak these dying wishes, if only for me to whisper, if only to comfort me in my death. I wish you knew the truth. I wish you could see the insanity of it all, but I know you can't. Just like I couldn't. A fool's wishes, I know. But Death comes for this Fool and I welcome Him with open arms." _

_He was momentarily shocked by what the girl had said, and lowered the knife slightly. What did she mean? What truth did she- _

_"Do it!' His thoughts were cut off, 'Kill her and get revenge for your family!" The voice in the background screamed. _

_The rage filled him once more, blinding him, as he raised the knife. Suddenly there was a loud screaming, a screaming that saturated the very air around him, and Robin jerked from the memory, realizing it was him that was screaming._

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There was a loud crash as the door behind him opened up, and Starfire, startled by his screaming, ran out of it. 

"Robin, why do you scream? Are you having the dreams of nightmare?" She asked concerned.

He turned towards her, but he didn't answer her. He couldn't. The team didn't know about it. Any of it. When he had returned, and found out that he had been gone for a week, he had made up a dumb excuse about training in the mountains. As far as he knew, it was true. He hoped it was true. He couldn't remember anything of last week, except for those two flashes. Those horrible, horrible flashes. He wasn't even sure if they had really happened. He hoped they hadn't. He shivered as he remembered the look of sadness and certain death in the girl's eyes, as he held the knife to her throat.

Starfire noticed. "Robin, are you coming down with a cold?" she asked concerned. She put her hand up to his forehead, checking to see if he had a temperature. He ducked away from her touch. He was extremely moody, and didn't like it when people touched him these days. He could see the hurt in her eyes, but he didn't care. A week ago he would have apologized for being so cold towards her, but now, he simply didn't care.

"Starfire, I would like it if you would leave me alone. I need to think."

She left, but at the door, turned and gave him a pleading look. He knew that all he would have to do was invite her to come back, to talk, to explain what was wrong and all would be forgiven. He could forget about yesterday, about last week, about those 'memories' and be happy. Instead he turned away. He heard the iron door slam shut, Starfire sadly excepting his excuse that he needed to think. He didn't really need to though. He had been thinking about it the whole day, up on top of the tower. And he had come to a decision. He knew what he was going to do. He was going to leave. Forever. And he was leaving tonight.

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_Please Review, I would love to know your thoughts on my story!_


	2. Who Is This Girl?

Chapter 2

Three weeks later, now calling himself Night Wing, he walked the streets of Gotham City, trying to take his mind off the pain and turmoil raging inside.

_You didn't have to leave…_

_Yes I did!_

_Why?_

_Those memories… The girl I killed…_

_How do you know they were real memories, and not just nightmares? You didn't kill her, you would remember that._

_Still, I held a knife to a citizen's throat. For all I can remember I did kill her!_

_But you didn't. You would remember that. You're not a killer._

_Still…_

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud beeping in his ear. His earphone device was linked to every alarm in the city. A shop was currently being robbed. A loud, robotic voice kept repeating the shops name and location. He broke into a run, leaping across rooftops, spanning the distance shortly, heading for "Smiths Jewelry". He got there a few minutes later, barely winded. There was a large hole in the glass door, fragments of glass lying everywhere, and the chain door was tossed aside, as if the thief did not care who knew he was there. Or, to be more accurate, who knew _she_ was there.

As he stepped through the door, he immediately zeroed in on the thief. His heart skipped a beat. The thief was a girl, carrying a bag stuffed to the breaking point with jewels. And there was something oddly familiar about her. Her hair, cut into choppy layers, swirled about her shoulders as she turned towards him, catching what little light there was, the color a silky dark brown. She wore a tight, long sleeved shirt, midnight blue, with a black hawk in the middle. Her pants were black, and flared at the end. She wore a long black cloak, a hawk decorating the back. She wore black Converse tennis shoes. His eyes went back to her face, and he noticed that she wore a mask similar to his own, and one word ran through his mind to describe her, "Beautiful". She had ivory skin, flawless, with a slight rosy blush. Her facial features were small, but they fit her small face. She had ruby red lips, and a small, perfect nose.

He started from his trance as she took a long graceful step, right towards him.

"Stop" he said stupidly.

She kept walking.

"I told you to stop, thief!" he said in a dangerous tone.

"And if I don't?" she asked quietly.

She had a beautiful voice, quiet and melodious.

"I'll make you." he answered grimly, pulling a netting device from his belt.

He hated to do it, she couldn't be older than 17, and she looked so fragile, but he flung the device at her. Lightning fast, she ran forward, put one hand on the ground, threw the bag in the air, flung her legs over her head, twisted her body up and over the net, and landed gracefully, her back facing him, catching the bag before it hit the ground.

She pulled something out of her cloak, and twisting around, flung it at him. It was already to late when he realized what it was. A poisoned dart. He felt a sting on his neck, and fell down, instantly paralyzed. She walked over to him, kneeling down by his upper body. She put two fingers around the dart, and pulled, gently extracting it from his neck. She drew two vials from her cloak, along with a small piece off cloth. She opened the first vial, and picking up his head, poured the contents into his mouth.

"Don't worry, I'm not poisoning you. This is an antidote to the poison within the dart. In about five minutes you'll be able to move again."

She unscrewed the top of the next vial, and pouring the contents onto the cloth, she pressed the cloth to the puncture wound the dart had made. She had small, soft, gentle hands. She seemed so petite and delicate, and she couldn't be taller than his shoulder. Yet, she had subdued him; beat him, with hardly any effort. She picked the dart up, and dusting it off, stuck it back into the folds of her cloak. She pushed a few strands of hair out of her face, tucking them behind her ear. It was a useless effort though; her choppy layers just fell out, framing her face. "You know, I wasn't supposed to do that.'

She pointed to the vials lying on the ground.

'If he finds out, he'll have me beaten for sure. So please refrain from telling anyone."

She had been avoiding his eyes, but with her last remark, she looked into them. As she looked into his eyes, he noticed that, while the mask looked exactly like his, it exposed her eyes. They were a deep blue color, with a thick fringe of eyelashes framing them, and at any other time they would be considered magnificent. But the pain and sorrow in them made them almost disturbing to look into. He held her gaze for a moment longer, but she averted her eyes.

"I don't want to do it' she said, holding the bag up 'Any of it. I have to though, he makes me. If I don't, he says he will kill innocent people. I don't care if he kills me, but I can't be responsible for the deaths of innocent people. I just can't!"

The pain in her eyes was unbearable, and he had the strange urge to reach up and wrap his arms around her. He was startled by this urge. It had never happened to him before. He could feel the effects of the poison wearing off, and he was hoping she would stay just a little bit longer. He had seen how fast she was, but he knew he was faster. He might be able to grab her arm, and pin her down. He didn't want to hurt her, he would just restrain her. In the distance, he heard the blaring of sirens. 'Idiots!' he thought. 'They have to announce themselves, don't they?'

"I'm sorry NightWing, but I'm afraid I have to go. If I stay much longer, I will soon be seeing the inside of a jail cell, and many innocent people will be killed. You can hear the sirens even now, can't you?' She asked.

And then so quickly, he could have almost missed it, she leaned down and laid a kiss on his unprepared lips. The kiss was quick, but warm, and he felt a strange feeling. He didn't want it to stop. Just as quickly as it started, it was over. She looked into his surprised eyes, and the look in her eyes was unreadable.

"It was good to see you again, NightWing. I'm afraid I won't have the pleasure of seeing you ever again. No. Never."

She stood up and began walking off. He had regained his speech, and called after her

"What is your name?"

He had been shocked when she used his new name, he didn't think any one knew about it yet. He certainly looked different; his new suit was black, tights and all, and his cape was metallic silver. But that didn't matter, what mattered was that he got her name. She turned to him, and he saw that she had a look of surprise on her face, surprised someone would care.

"I don't have one. A real one, I mean. He calls me his DeathHawk, but I don't like that name. I'd much rather be called…"

She paused there, thinking of a name

"…NightHawk."

The sirens were right outside the door now, and police headlights were blaring into the shop. She started running towards the back of the shop, but seemed to think better of it. She backed up, took a running leap, and somehow propelled herself to the balcony above them. She turned, looked down at him and waved. It was then that the police filed into the shop, shouting at her to put her hands up. For a moment, she seemed like she was going to comply. She slowly turned around and raised her hands into the air. He was instantly suspicious, knowing that she would not give in that easily. He looked around, trying to see things the way she would see them.

That's when he got it. He inwardly groaned. He had an idea of what she was going to do. And it was so insane, it just might work. He tried to struggle to his feet, but was pushed back down like a naughty boy in time out. Just as her arms were completely in the air, and some of the police had started filing up the stairs, handcuffs out, ready to take her into custody, she gave a shriek, so loud and eerie; it sent shivers down his spine. The police looked around in confusion, momentarily letting there guards down, and that was all the time she needed. She ran to the handrail overlooking the bottom of the shop, sprang onto it, and took a straight dive towards the floor. Just as it looked like she would hit the floor, and certainly die, she somehow flung her legs over her head, and landed in a crouching, position her hands steadying her. There was a startled silence, and then all the police surged towards her at once. She turned a summersault, and then a front flip over the heads of the rushing police men. Then she was up, and running out the door. And just like that, in less than two minutes, she was gone, melting into the shadows of Gotham City.

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_Penny for your thoughts... Please Review!_ : ) 


	3. Pain Is Now My Only Friend

Chapter 3

Ever since his meeting with the mysterious girl, the one who called herself NightHawk, he walked the streets and rooftops of Gotham City, searching for her, obsessed with her. He was like a man possessed. He wanted to find her, to ask her many questions, to find out who she really was. He wanted to know who the man was, the man that was forcing her to be a thief. And, deep inside of him, he wanted to see her beautiful face, hear her melodious voice and feel those soft, warm lips on his again.

And what did she mean about it being good to see him 'again'? He had never met her once in his life, at least not that he could remember. He remembered that he had felt an odd familiarity about her, but he couldn't quite place his finger on it. She was a criminal, he knew that. She had stolen one million dollars worth of jewelry, and yet she piqued his curiosity, his sympathy and some other emotion he couldn't put words to. Who was that man she talked about with such fear? Why did she have to do anything? He wanted to, needed to find her. However, he knew he wasn't the only one looking for her. Half of the city's police force was still looking for her, because of the large amount of jewels she had stolen. But he had to find her first. He just had to.

He had left the scene of the robbery in perfect health; the only part of him that had been injured was his pride. The poison had worn off, but it had left behind a sick, drunken feeling. He was getting shakily to his feet when the police finally noticed him, after she had made her escape. It was embarrassing, but he told them everything that had happened, leaving out what she had said to him. And, of course, that she had kissed him. He didn't even know what to make of it, and he sure as hell wasn't going to tell the entire city police force about it. The whole city knew he had been beaten by her, a 'common thief'. He worked three times as hard at catching criminals, to make up for 'The Incident', as he called it. He would answer every alarm, every robbery, expecting it to be her, secretly hoping for it to be her. It never was. She had entered his life, quickly and quietly. She had left it just as fast, even faster.

Daybreak was just beginning when he returned to his loft. It was on the top floor of a luxury apartment complex, where he had the entire top floor to himself, along with the rooftop garden. From the garden, he could survey Gotham City in one glance. 'Sort of like the old tower' He thought to himself sadly. Angry with himself for remembering the tower, he told himself to shut up and forget about it. He had to stop. The Titans Tower, the Titans, everything about his old life needed to be erased. He had to stop thinking about his old life. Robin was gone, replaced by Night Wing. His old life, the person he was, was dead. And it was going to stay that way.

He opened the door to his loft, and was reaching for the light switch, when he heard a familiar voice and a familiar word, both that he wanted to forget.

"Robin!" Starfire exclaimed, in a voice filled with hope.

"That's not my name. It's Night Wing." He said wearily.

Flipping on the light switch, he saw Starfire sitting on the couch, with a green kitten next to her. Cyborg was standing in the shadows, and Raven was sitting on his window seat, calmly surveying the sunrise.

The green kitten turned into BeastBoy, who shouted, "Yo! My man what's up?"

He extended his hand, expecting their usual handshake, but Night Wing brushed right past him into the kitchen. Beast Boy dropped his hand.

"Ro- I mean friend Night Hawk. We desire your company at the tower, and Jump City needs you to.' Starfire said. Then in an undertone she added 'I need you."

He turned from the fridge, startled and angry. Damn her! Why did she have to do this? What did she want from him? Didn't she understand that he couldn't be with her, or the Titans? He was different. He wasn't the same. He was never going to be Robin again! Damn it!

"Starfire, I'd like you to leave. Beast boy, Cyborg, Raven, I want you to leave too. I want you all to leave and never come back. Ever. I'm not Robin. I'm not who you knew."

Then turning to Starfire he added, "I'm not the guy you love. And I don't love you."

With that remark, the one last bit of Robin in him truly did die. NightWing felt him die, but he had no regrets. He had just said the words he could never take back. But he wouldn't want to if he could. He really was no longer a Titan.

She gave a muffled sob, and then ran out of the loft crying. Beast boy ran after her, but not before shooting Night Wing an evil glare. Cyborg walked out of the room, turning at the door to say,

"That was cruel man. That was just cruel."

Night Wing turned to Raven, who had quietly been surveying the whole scene.

"I want you to leave. Now." He said quietly.

She turned to go, but while passing him she stopped.

"You have changed.' She said quietly. 'Robin is dead. We can no longer help you, but I know who can."

She continued walking.

"Who can?" he asked. In answer, Raven walked up to him, dropped a tiny figurine into his right hand, closed his hand over it and then walked out the open door. For a long time Night Wing just stood there, tears sliding down his face for the life he had just lost. He had killed two people now. That unknown girl and now Robin. He knew he had killed part of Starfire, too. He could never be with her. Ever. Robin was dead. But he, Night Wing, was alive. The tears stopped, and he walked into his bathroom to wash his face clean of the tears, the last remnants of his old self.

As he walked into the bathroom, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. What he saw there disgusted him. His face was pale, thin and harrowed, from weeks of barely any sleep. But it was his eyes that bothered him. There was a dark black ring around them, and they were red and puffy, a testament to his earlier weakness. Unable to stand the sight of his pathetic, weak face anymore, he brought his left fist up, and roaring with anger, pain, hatred and misery, smashed it into the mirror. Sharp pain flooded his body, as glass sunk deep into his palm, his knuckles, his fingers and a part of his wrist. He stood there for a moment, his hand cupped slightly, watching the blood gather into a little pool in his palm, and continued watching as it overflowed, and began dripping down his arm, falling to the floor. He crumpled to the floor, and continued to watch the blood, and feel the pain. He liked the pain, it felt good. He couldn't think of anything else, just the hot flashing pain.

After a bit, the pain began to numb, and other thoughts began to creep into his mind. He couldn't have that. He couldn't think. So, bringing his right hand to his left, he began picking out glass fragments. Something fell from his right hand, hitting the floor with a soft thunk. He didn't pay attention to it, he hardly even noticed it. With every bit of glass that he pulled out, a new wave of pain would ensue. This was good. The pain blocked all other thoughts. After a while, he had extracted all of the glass from his hand. He noticed that he was now not only in pain, but he was also exhausted. He wasn't quite sure what had just happened, but he did know that he had discovered something valuable. If he was in pain, physical pain, he couldn't think. Physical pain was his savior from all the turmoil raging inside him. Physical pain saved him from the emotional pain.

He looked around him, at the mess of blood and glass, and noticed a small black object in the gore. Poking through the bloody glass, he picked the object up. It was a small figurine, but with the blood covering it, he couldn't make out what it was. Walking to the sink, he rinsed the object off, and held it to the light. He gasped, and for a second, thought he was seeing things. He thought that maybe the loss of blood was getting to his head. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breathes, before opening his eyes. He saw the same thing as before. It had to be real then, not just some figment of his imagination. He stared at it in surprise and in confusion. What was Raven trying to tell him? That this figurine was the representation of his savior? He continued to stare, lost in thought as the day progressed and passed him by. Alarms went off, cries for help were screamed, buildings burned, and people died but he ignored all, so consumed he was by this tiny figurine. The figurine was about as big as a golf ball, pitch black, with stars strewn all over it, and it was shaped in the form of a hawk.

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_So, Review. You know you want to..._ ; ) 


	4. A Gunshot and a Savior

Chapter 4

She ran. She ran for her life. She ran in a zigzagged pattern, dodging bullets. She could feel them behind her, their large awkward feet pounding the pavement. She heard their heavy, labored breathing, and knew that if she just made it to the park; then she could easily lose them among the foliage. They were already tired, about ready to drop, and she was barely winded. This night had not gone as planned. Not as she had planned anyways. She hadn't meant to rob a mob boss' gallery. Well, she had meant to, but she didn't know whose gallery she was robbing. She was simply doing what she had been told to. She hadn't expected these thugs to show up. Especially thugs with guns.

She had been told that that there would be no warm bodies, and minimal security, which would be easily disabled. But then these two idiots had shown up, shooting at her and yelling all sorts of profanity. Apparently they had fallen asleep on the job, and were now extremely worried that they were going to be in big trouble with 'The Boss' and had to 'Kill this bitch before she gets away with any of Tommy Boss' stuff'. Personally, she didn't think it was her fault if they had fallen asleep and were incapable of doing their job. She was just doing hers, after all. She saw the soft green light of the park up ahead. She increased her speed, a renewed vigor within her. She was going to make it; she was going to beat these idiots! She heard their wheezing fall farther behind and she knew that she had made it.

_'Mission accomplished' _she thought to herself.

She slowed down just a bit, to catch her breath, and began to run in a straight line. She thought that she was safe, that she could afford the slight change in pace and direction. Little did she know that that would be her fatal mistake. The blundering thugs, seeing their quarry getting away, decided to take one last shot at her, hoping to bring her down. They aimed, cocked there sawed- off shotguns, and fired. And unfortunately for her, luck was on their side. It was a crazy shot, a one in a million, and yet it still hit her. She cried out in agony, feeling a hot flash of pain dig into her left shoulder. She stumbled forwards, desperate to get away from them, looking for shelter, now that she had been hit. She wasn't going to be able to outrun them now. She had to hide. She couldn't be caught. She just couldn't. She ran onwards, clutching her shoulder, looking around in haste. She could hear them, searching for her, tripping through the underbrush. She heard them yelling to each other, asking each other if they had hit her, and searching, still searching.

That's when she saw it. A few bushes up ahead, growing closely together, with a small indentation in the bottom of the bushes. She thought that she just might be able to squeeze her body into the small space. But she had to hurry. She took a breath, getting onto her hands and knees, hoping that the small enclave wasn't some snakes or skunks home. She crawled into the space. It was a tight squeeze and she had to curl into the fetal position, clutching her right hand to her shoulder, the other hand had a tight grip on the bag of stolen loot. She didn't feel the quick bite of an angry snake or smell the horrible stench of an upset skunk, so she decided that she was lucky in that aspect. She hoped they would give up their search soon, so she could get back to the base. She had to get medical attention, and soon. She felt the hot blood pouring out from the wound, flowing in between her fingers, down her body, and to the ground, gathering into a little puddle. She lay there, waiting for it to get quiet, waiting for the sounds of searching to go away. After about ten minutes, she began to feel dizzy. Her vision began to get fuzzy, and the world seemed to turn upside down. The dizziness got worse, and patches of black began to swim in front of her eyes. She had the intense desire to go to sleep, to let it all slip away. Her limbs began to cramp, and she wondered why it was that she was in this uncomfortable position. Then she remembered. Her eyes snapped open as she remembered that she was hiding, hiding for her life, and for others.

_'It must be the blood loss...' _she thought _'the blood loss is making me dizzy…'_

She wondered if they had left, if they had given up, if they were gone. She closed her eyes, listening for a sound, any sound. All was quiet. She stretched out her legs, preparing to crawl out from her hiding place. She shifted her shoulder slightly, hitting it against the ground in her rush, and consequently screaming out in pain. She clasped her hand to her mouth, the movement causing another wave of pain to wash through her body. Her vision began to get blurry again. She could feel unconsciousness coming, no matter how hard she tried to fight it. She froze, listening again, hoping no one had heard her scream. Her heart skipped a beat as she heard soft footsteps approaching her hiding place. She attempted to curl back up, to hide herself, for she could do nothing else. But it was too late. Booted feet stopped in front of her hiding place, and shifted slightly. Her eyes closed. She could do nothing to defend herself. She was in to much pain, she was too weak.

"I knew I would eventually find you if I was patient enough, NightHawk." A soft voice murmured.

Shock washed over her. She didn't even attempt to struggle as warm, strong arms gripped her body, and gently lifted her up. She was cradled against a firm chest, her head tucked into a soft throat, and she felt her saviors, or her captors, pulse, throbbing softly next to her ear. She was astonished, dumbstruck, and unable to speak.

_'Only one person knows that name'_ she thought _'only one person…-'_

Before she could ponder any further, her body went limp, and she slipped into blessed, painless darkness.

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_Well, there you go! The 4th chapter! I hope you liked it! I'm already working on the 5th, so please be patient, I will upload it soon! PLEASE REVIEW! I WANT TO KNOW IF ANYONE IS EVEN READING THIS STORY! I ALSO WOULD LIKE TO HEAR ABOUT HOW I COULD IMPROVE IT. SO PLEASE BE A DEAR AND REVIEW! THANKS! _; ) 


	5. A Race Against Death

Chapter 5

He ran back through the park, carrying her unconscious body in his arms. He could feel her blood soaking through his clothes, and a twinge of worry ran through him. He needed to get her back to the loft, quickly. She needed a doctor, and possibly even surgery, fast. He couldn't take her to a hospital. There would be too many questions that he didn't want to, or couldn't, answer. He could easily hand her over to the police, and she wouldn't be his concern anymore. But part of him, most of him, didn't want to hand her over. He wanted to keep her for himself. He didn't know anything about this girl, and he sure as hell didn't want anybody else to.

He decided to take her back home, where he could meet up with his private doctor, Dr. Yamamoto. He was a surgeon, who had been taking care of NightWing's numerous injuries since he had arrived in Gotham City. NightWing didn't like hospitals, so he had tracked down a top-of-the-line doctor, who didn't ask questions and didn't talk about his work to anyone else. He was a diehard believer in doctor-patient confidentiality, and NightWing was fine with that.

He arrived at his new car, a black sports car, with the world's fastest engine, and military technology built in. As he was opening the passenger door, he felt her body go cold and her heartbeat slow down. He set her in the car, buckled her seatbelt, and jumped into the driver's seat. He grabbed some medical bandages out of the glove box, and reached for his keys. With a quiet purr, the car turned on, and shot onto the empty roads, like a bat out of hell. He floored the gas pedal, sucking every ounce of speed out of the car that was possible. He reached over to her and pressed his hand, with the crumpled up medical bandages, to her injured shoulder, trying to staunch the blood flow.

"Call Dr. Yamamoto." He ordered the car.

There was a short series of rings, and then a calm voice, with a Japanese accent, picked up the phone.

"Hello NightWing. I will be at your loft in five minutes."

There was a soft click as the doctor hung up the phone, and then all was silent again. What had just happened was not unusual. Dr. Yamamoto knew that NightWing only called him if he was injured. He would pick up the phone, tell NightWing his estimated time of arrival, and then arrive a few minutes early, medical bag in hand. He hoped that the Doctor could treat her, and that they wouldn't have to take her to a hospital. He knew Dr. Yamamoto was a capable surgeon, but NightWing's loft wasn't exactly set up for major surgery.

He raced on. He was almost there. His hand was now thoroughly covered in her warm blood, it had quickly soaked through the bandages but he thought that the pressure might be helping. Her blood wasn't flowing out as fast anymore, it was now slowly trickling out of the wound. If he didn't make it back to his loft soon, she would most likely bleed to death.

He raced through the streets of Gotham, pushing his car to the limits. The car was now filled with the sickly-sweet smell of warm blood, cloying his nose and making his stomach turn. The large luxurious apartment building came into view, and he sped into the private underground parking. He parked his car in its personal, enclosed garage, suddenly grateful that he had paid extra for the private garage and personal elevator. He didn't want anybody to see the blood stains across his seats and on the floor, and he didn't know how he could explain to the doorman why he was carrying a bleeding, half-dead girl into the building.

He jumped out of the car, raced to the other side, unbuckled her and tried to pull her out of the car as gently as possible. He clutched her to his chest, and noticed that she was now covered in a clod sweat, her breathing was labored and she was incredibly pale. He jogged to the elevator, trying to keep her as steady as possible. He inserted his key, punched in his combination and waited impatiently for his elevator to arrive. The doors opened, he leapt in, and slammed the close button with his fist. An eternity later, they arrived at his floor, where he was required to insert another key, punch in another combination and do a thumbprint scan. As the elevator processed his information, he wondered if all this security was really necessary, and if he really needed it. A high pitched ping sounded, signaling that he was cleared. The doors slid open, revealing a magnificently furnished loft, with hard wood floors and an open floor plan. He rushed through his living room, and into his library, where he punched in yet another code, and a door was revealed behind a bookcase. He went through the door into his medical room. Dr. Yamamoto was waiting. He stood over the stainless steel examining table, waiting to treat yet another of NightWing's numerous wounds. His eyes went wide in surprise as he noticed the bloody girl, lying in NightWing's arms. He quickly realized that it was not NightWing he would be treating tonight.

"What happened?" he asked, quickly regaining his professional composure.

"Gunshot wound. Left shoulder."

"How long has it been since she was shot?' Dr. Yamamoto asked, motioning NightWing over. 'Set her down."

"Eight minutes. It took me two minutes to find her and get her to the car, and six minutes to get home."

NightWing watched Dr. Yamamoto's face go pale, and felt a sense of foreboding wash over him.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Well… Has she taken any Aspirin lately?"

"I don't know. Why?"

"You see, with this amount of blood, there was either a small blood vessel hit, or a large blood vessel. By now, the blood should be clotting. There could be two reasons the blood isn't clotting. The first is Aspirin. The second is that a large blood vessel was hit. Let's just hope that it's not both. You see, Aspirin causes blood to thin, and thus she would lose more blood, even if it was just a small vessel hit. So I was hoping that it was just a small vessel hit and that she had taken Aspirin…" the doctor trailed off, lowering his head.

"What are you saying?" NightWing asked, desperation in his voice.

The doctor looked up, took a deep breath and said-

"I'm saying that if it was a large blood vessel hit, and she had taken Aspirin, she might have already lost too much blood. If that is the case, I don't know if I can save her. If that is the case, there is a great possibility that she will die."

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_Dun...Dun..Dun.. If you want me to update, leave a review: ) Please!_


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